Attachment to Letting Go
by Leosia Major
Summary: They never should have been together. Between the secrecy, the manipulation and the dangerous obsession, they'd never had a worse idea in their lives. They never said it was healthy, but in that moment, it was all they had. Russia x Poland. Human names used. Rated M for sexual content.
1. Prologue

Pairing: Ivan Braginsky x Feliks Łukasiewicz (Russia x Poland)

Summary: They never should have been together. Between the secrecy, the manipulation and the dangerous obsession, they'd never had a worse idea in their lives. They never said it was healthy, but in that moment, it was all they had.

Warnings: M rating for later chapters.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any related ideas. This is all just for fun and entertainment here.

* * *

"It's like this," Feliks explained with a patient sigh. It was damn near impossible to describe this feeling he had, but he couldn't be the only one who felt this way. He just couldn't be. "It's like …" He began again, searching for the words. How could he possibly say the confusing swirl of feelings in his head aloud when he hardly understood them himself? He didn't feel love, no, but he felt some sort of deep affection and it clashed horribly with that deep seated resentment within him.

At last, finding inspiration, he lifted his right hand. "This is Poland. It's like, its own entity." Ivan lifted his eyebrow skeptically. What sort of metaphor was this? Feliks breathed a little sigh, held up his left hand, and continued. "Just be quiet and listen," he said.

"This is Feliks. Again, a totally separate thing but …" He moved his hands together and linked his fingers. "They're like this, right? Separate, but together." He looked down at his hands. "Sometimes they want different things. Sometimes they're one and the same. They can't exist without one another." He tugged his hands as if to pull them apart, but his fingers kept them locked together. "But they're still different."

He paused briefly, emerald locking onto amethyst as he searched the other man's gaze for something showing he understood. If Ivan was following him, his face did nothing to show he agreed. In spite of the lack of reaction, Feliks continued. With his own hands still linked, he reached out and linked Ivan's right pinkie with his left - his 'Feliks' hand. "That's Ivan." He said quietly, and linked the remaining pinkie with his own on the hand he'd dubbed 'Poland'. "And this is Russia." He trailed off, waiting for it to sink in.

Ivan looked down at their linked hands, ignoring the feeling of warmth at the Pole's touch. He focused on them for a very long time before he looked up. "No matter what Feliks and Ivan do," Ivan began, his voice calm. "There is no way to leave Russia and Poland out of it …" He nodded slowly, finally understanding the strange metaphor.

"Exactly." Feliks pulled his hands away. He should have been relieved that Ivan understood, but somehow, the feeling made him all the sicker.

* * *

A/N: This was originally inspired by an amazing role play with a very good friend of mine, and by the song "One More Night" by Maroon 5.

I owe a huge thank you to my beta Savvi, and to my lovely Panda and Broski for letting me bounce ideas off of them for hours and hours before this fic began.

Thank you for reading! This is my first attempt at an actual, serious, multi-chapter fan fiction. This was short, but I promise now that the prologue is out of the way, the rest of the chapters will be much longer. I'll try to have the next chapter up soon! Please review, and thank you again!


	2. Chapter 1

**Pairing**: Ivan Braginsky x Feliks Łukasiewicz (Russia x Poland)

**Summary**: They never should have been together. Between the secrecy, the manipulation and the dangerous obsession, they'd never had a worse idea in their lives. They never said it was healthy, but in that moment, it was all they had.

**Warnings**: M rating for later chapters.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia or any related ideas. This is all just for fun and entertainment here.

* * *

_Five months prior ... _

Feliks sulked where he sat at the airport bar, staring moodily into his vodka as if the liquid was responsible for his current frustration. The bar was quiet - there didn't appear to be many flights at this hour - but frankly he preferred it that way. He wasn't exactly what they'd call a social butterfly when it came to a room full of strangers, and his friends he'd declined to go out with. Normally he was up for any amount of celebrating when his friends were able to be in the same place outside of a meeting. But tonight ... well he just didn't have the heart for it. He'd caught the very first flight from Wroclaw back home, eager for his bed, but upon passing the mostly empty bar he couldn't resist.

Earlier that day had been the final games for Group A in the Euro 2012 UFEA tournament. Hosting Euro 2012 had meant so very much to Feliks. Truly, he was grateful for even having been given the opportunity. He'd positively glowed with pride every time someone complimented the National Stadium in Warsaw. Proud to host as he was, that pride did nothing to eliminate the growing frustration he felt at the Polish team's defeat this afternoon. He was proud of them, he really was. They'd all fought hard in all three matches they'd played so far. But ultimately it had been the Czech Republic that had gone ahead along with Greece to the next round.

It was hard to be happy for them - or for any of his friends that he was sure would advance to the next round as well. His consolation, he supposed, was that Russia's team had not made it either. All week they'd been saying how the Russian team was near certain to advance. He would have liked to have seen the look on Ivan's face when Greece beat them out. He could only imagine how shocked the large nation must have been.

"Want me to top you off?" The bartender asked and Feliks nearly jumped, so deep had he been in thought. The blond looked down to the dwindling supply of alcohol and nodded his head, thanking him. He had to be grateful, he reminded himself. He'd gotten to host, he'd gotten to show everyone that he was still strong, still capable. And once again, he reminded himself, that Ivan wasn't advancing either.

Once more Feliks damn near jumped out of his chair as a heavy hand rested on his shoulder. As if summoned by the mere mental mention of him, Ivan stood beside him, lifting a hand to the bartender, indicating he'd like a glass as well. The Pole had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He'd known, of course, that Ivan would be in Warsaw. His game had been at the National Stadium and his hotel was here in the city too. But when he'd flown back to the capital and opted for airport drinks, he hadn't counted on Ivan heading for a flight home at the same time.

"What do you want?" He asked sharply, looking up from his glass, emerald eyes narrowed. The last thing he wanted to deal with was the Russian.

"Польша," Ivan said, his voice reproachful. "Is that any way to greet someone?" He sat at the stool next to Feliks, taking his drink in hand and sipping from it.

"It's more polite than I'd like to greet you, _Rosja_," Feliks muttered, following suit and drinking.

As soon as Ivan had swallowed the burning liquid, he made a face. "Польша, this is what you call vodka?"

Feliks gritted his teeth. This was nothing new. He and the bigger nation had never gotten along and everyone knew it. In modern times - times of peace - when burning hatred had settled into strong dislike, they spent their time throwing half hearted barbs at one another. This teasing he was used to. He took his fair share of shots at the nation he considered nothing more than an overgrown child and a bully.

"Yes, but I guess you totally wouldn't recognize what quality vodka tastes like after all the stuff you drink," Feliks shot back unashamedly.

For a moment, the comment seemed to anger Ivan. He did take his vodka seriously after all, and his gaze hardened. He smiled sweetly at Feliks, though his eyes showed a far more malevolent mood. Most nations would have cowered. The Pole, however, sat calmly beside Ivan as if nothing was happening. The Russian would have been lying if he said that hadn't always intrigued him. Even America, the self-proclaimed hero was uncomfortable around him in one of his moods.

Apparently the brief vodka debate was dropped however, for Ivan moved right along to a new topic. "Sulking after your loss, I see?" He asked, his tone smug.

"What are you looking so happy for?" Feliks tipped back the remainder of his drink and ordered another, surprised to see Ivan had followed suit and finished his off as well. "You lost too, remember? Greece beat Russia, fair and square," he spat.

"It was one loss," Ivan countered.

"I only lost today! The Polish team tied with Greece and your team too..." He sucked on his teeth for a moment, annoyance written all over him. "Well that goal of your team's was off sides. Everyone knows it. The game should have been mine."

Ivan narrowed his gaze, paying little attention to the vodka handed to him. "You would like to think that, wouldn't you? It's easier than believing your team is weak, да? I suppose I can't blame them for the traits given to them by their motherla-"

"I'm not weak and you know it," Feliks said, anger flaring. He was shy around those he didn't know, but he held nothing back with those he was familiar. And Ivan, unfortunately, he was very familiar with. "I guess that's something you'd know all about," he commented, voice heavy with suggestion. "Weakness, that is."

Ivan was quick to silence him, getting right in his face. "I'd watch what you say."

They were both cut off by the bartender, now anxious his two guests, however well paying, might stir up trouble. "Both of you," he said sternly, "no trouble here or I'll ... well I'll have to throw you out." Feliks unnerved him enough. There was something off about the small blond, but the large man next to him was nothing short of terrifying.

Feliks nodded his head and silently signaled for another drink for the both of them. He looked squarely at Ivan then, sincerely hoping the Russian would behave himself. "When are you leaving?" He asked, not bothering to disguise the pleasure in his voice at the notion of Russia leaving his homeland.

"Early tomorrow," Ivan supplied, immediately drinking from his glass when it was refilled. Feliks had to marvel at the way he drank. He himself had quite the tolerance but he had to admit (grudgingly so) that he couldn't quite compare to the other. "My flight this evening was cancelled."

"That's too bad," Feliks replied sincerely. He didn't want Ivan here in his home any longer than he had to be after all. They lapsed into awkward silence for a good ten minutes or so, Ivan downing another glass and a half in that time. It wasn't long before he could feel eyes on him and the blond shifted uncomfortably.

"What are you staring at, _Rosja_!?" He demanded.

"I'm not staring, just making an observation," came the calm reply.

"Observation of what?"

Ivan glanced over the jeans Feliks wore and the slightly soiled football jersey he wore over top of them. "Your attire." He smiled when he saw Feliks stiffen. "It isn't often one sees you looking so..." He trailed off, letting the sweeping gaze of his do the talking for him.

Feliks knew he didn't look his best. The jeans were old, the jersey was dirty and his hair was more than likely messed up. He took great care with his appearance - it wasn't often he didn't look so well put together. "How kind of you to notice." He rolled his eyes.

"I'm surprised to be seeing you like that, I mean," Ivan explained. "And not in one of those skirts you seem to like so much."

Ah, there was the barb Feliks had been waiting for. He rolled his eyes a second time and looked over. "Like you know how often I wear skirts," he scoffed. "You'd like to see me all dressed up, I'm sure," he taunted, finishing off his drink and leaning in. He was almost startled to find he was considering that he just might enjoy the idea of Ivan thinking about him like that. He was quick to stop those thoughts - he would think that about anyone. He liked the attention.

Ivan didn't answer right away, busying himself with his vodka. For all that Poland had been a pain in his side for the last several hundred years, there wasn't much denying he was attractive. He was - male or female – almost _pretty _and when he decided to wear women's clothing to a professional function (this happened only rarely) there wasn't much telling the difference between he and one of the other female nations. Of course Ivan didn't allow himself the time to focus much on the way the other man looked in a skirt.

There was no hiding the smirk of amusement on Feliks' face as he watched Ivan's expression. "Oh my god, you totally would, wouldn't you?" He asked. He couldn't help but wonder then, did Russia think about that? Did Russia think about him? He tried to ignore the little stirring he felt in the pit of his stomach at the notion.

His amusement was met with a narrowed pair of amethyst eyes. "I have better things to do than to consider the clothing choices of a moron, Польша," he said, his voice bearing that same false innocence he used with other nations. The tone might have had others shaking where they stood. Feliks of course just rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry, _Rosja_," the Pole said as he placed money on the counter, slipping out of his stool. Frankly he'd already had a bit more to drink than he needed and between the unattended tension he felt within himself and the buzz in his head he was sure he needed to go home. "Your secret is safe with me," he said, leaning in far too close and whispering the 'promise' to him. He moved away then and chuckled to himself, making his way to the rest room first.

Right away he made his way to the row of sinks so that he could splash some water on his face. While he'd had fun mocking - and apparently embarrassing - Russia, he had to admit that he wasn't at all bothered by the idea of the larger nation thinking of him or even of him enjoying said thoughts.

He pressed his wet hands against his warm cheeks, the cool water soothing them. At last he lowered them, groping for a paper towel to dry off with. He needed to be home. At the moment there was nothing quite like a warm shower, a cup of tea, some paluszki and finally, sleep. As he dried his face he lifted his head and almost screamed at the view in the mirror.

"_Rosja_!" He yelped, seeing the tall Russian standing right behind him. "I ... I didn't hear you come in," he breathed, ignoring the pleased expression Russia wore at having startled one who was normally so unafraid of him. He turned sharply to look at him rather than at his reflection. "What is your problem!?"

"Problem?" Ivan asked with a frown. "I should think you would know by now it is not smart to embarrass me in front of anyone, Польша," he said lowly.

Feliks wasn't sure if he should be worried or amused. So his teasing had gotten to the other? Well good, he deserved it. His triumphant thoughts were cut off as he was all but backed into the sink. He felt the wet edge of the porcelain digging into the small of his back but he managed to keep the discomfort from his face.

"Embarrassing you? Oh, _Rosja_ did I upset you by figuring out your little mind?" He asked unashamedly, smirking up at him. Unafraid of Russia as he was, he knew he was playing a dangerous game. The other nation was taller, physically stronger and had the advantage in a fight by far. Then again, Feliks wasn't known for his good sense when it came to keeping his mouth shut.

Ivan merely gritted his teeth. How dare the little Pole taunt him this way? So what if he liked the idea of him in a skirt? So what if he had allowed said ideas to get dirty? It wasn't as if he intended on acting out such thoughts. Or well, he hadn't considered it until this moment anyway. One hand lifted and grabbed into his hair, forcing the smaller nation to look up at him.

" Польша , do you think you're amusing?" He asked, bending down so that they were level.

"Actually, yes," the blond replied with a little smirk. "Are you enjoying this?" He asked, swallowing as he felt the painful hold on his hair. "Being this close to me?" He kept his voice purposefully low, deliberately husky. He might as well get to him as much as he can in this moment. Right?

Everything about the Pole egged Ivan on: the defiant look in his emerald gaze, the press of the smaller body against his own, the slight pout in those lips - he had no idea how he could resist. And so he didn't. "You disgust me," he said lowly before leaning in and kissing him. There was nothing gentle about the kiss. It was bruising, forceful, demanding, and only moments into it did Ivan realize Feliks was kissing him back.

Feliks had no idea who broke the kiss but when they parted, panting, he knew his heart was racing and his cheeks were flushed. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to smack Ivan, yell at him or pull him in for another kiss. "I can't stand you," he said lowly in a responding sneer, his nose right against the other's.

"That makes two of us," Ivan growled in response, and suddenly they were kissing again. Feliks' body pressed against the larger one before him and before he was quite aware of what was going on, he found himself sitting on the edge of the sink lifted by a pair of strong arms. He watched as they parted and Ivan locked the bathroom door.

"Trying to make your little fantasies come true?" Feliks taunted, trying to ignore the excitement in his own body. His heart was waging war against his rib cage and at the moment he was extremely aware of how tight his jeans were.

"Just giving you what I know you've been lusting after," Ivan hissed against his ear. The large nation stepped between his legs and Feliks tried hard not to focus on the warm body pressed so close against the center of his desire now. He couldn't stifle the resulting moan as he felt a warm tongue tracing the shell of his ear. He shuddered and he told himself it was revulsion. His head was spinning and he told himself that this had to stop. There was no way he could allow Russia to touch him like this. But damn it, deep down he knew he wanted this. They both knew damn well he could hold his liquor but he was sure in the morning he'd blame it on that. He'd simply say he was drunk. Then again, he didn't plan on sharing this with anyone.

His train of thought came to an abrupt halt when suddenly he felt Ivan's hand between his legs, groping him through his jeans. The friction between Ivan's hand, the denim of his jeans and his growing arousal - it was almost too much. This was absolutely wrong and the more Ivan touched him, the less he cared. He swallowed hard, biting down on his lip to keep himself quiet as the touching moved from outside of his clothing to inside. With quick, deft movements Ivan's long fingers undid the zipper of Feliks' jeans and that hand slipped inside. It was all Feliks could focus on, the sensation of Ivan's hand inside of his jeans, touching him, squeezing him, stroking him.

With both hands he held tightly to Ivan's shoulders as he leaned back, head resting against the mirror. With a free hand, Ivan worked the jeans down and open enough to give himself room to work. For the time being he was content just to touch the Pole, to know that he was the one forcing Feliks to lose his composure. It gave him a sense of control he'd never quite felt with him. For Feliks, well he was content enough just to lean back and enjoy the feel of Ivan's rough palm sliding over him.

As the pace of Ivan's hand increased, Feliks felt his own heart racing that much faster, bringing him closer and closer to his climax. With just another squeeze of that big hand, he was arching, teeth tugging on his own lower lip. He was well aware of every moan he gave, of every twitch of his body. Part of him resented it and his cheeks flushed. It wasn't that he was any sort of prude or that he was ashamed, but to give the Russian such a private view of himself, to offer such control, would have been intimidating had he not a bit of liquid courage on his side.

Ivan would never admit how much he enjoyed watching the sight before him. His hand moved up and down the hardened length of flesh as he drank in each little jerk of the Pole's body, each little moan of pleasure. Feliks hadn't lost enough control to say his name but just to see him undone was gratifying, though of course he intended on getting further gratification. His own trousers were far too tight now and he wasn't going to go without reward. His mouth opened a little as he watched the smaller body arch off of the sink, hips jerking into his touch. He'd have to remember the way Feliks looked - the way his face screwed up and he uttered a soft cry. If nothing else it would be good material for later - whether for his own use or for mocking him.

After a few moments, Feliks managed to come back to himself, though he was fairly certain his head was still spinning. He flushed darkly, realizing how he'd acted. He brushed it off and groped for another paper towel, pushing Ivan away from himself. His gaze darted to the unmistakable bulge in the Russian's pants and he opened up to comment on it when he was cut off by the loud ring tone of his phone. Rolling his eyes he held up a finger to Ivan and lifted his phone to his ear.

He ignored the incredulous look on Ivan's face when he interrupted the moment to answer. He kept his conversation brief, having only a few exchanges back and forth with the person on the other end before he was hanging up and pocketing his phone. Just moments later he was hopping off of the sink, fumbling to fix his jeans.

Ivan looked at him incredulously. "What are you doing?" He asked with a frown.

"My boss," Feliks said, zipping up his trousers and fixing himself. "He needs me. He said it was important." His gaze traveled down to Ivan's 'problem' and smirked. "I guess that will just have to wait for another time, won't it?" He asked, not bothering to hide his amusement.

Whatever triumph Ivan had felt at seeing the Pole undone and embarrassing him immediately faded. Did Feliks really think he was just going to ... well, just walk away like this? Apparently so, because as soon as Feliks had himself straightened out he was unlocking the bathroom door. "What?" He asked, feeling the Russian's eyes on him.

Ivan could think of nothing to say that didn't sound pathetic or needy and he was neither of those. Feliks lifted one hand to rest on his hip. Any other time Ivan might have been amused by the feminine gesture but for now he was just irritated and feeling perhaps a bit foolish. "Well? Nothing?" He prompted with a roll of his eyes. "Forget it, my boss'll totally have a cow if I don't go." He wrinkled his nose, that feeling of triumph from having something over Ivan returning. "Well, see you at the next meeting," he said in a sugary sweet tone that was completely unbefitting of him as he gave a little wave and left.

As the door swung shut behind the little Pole, Ivan felt his cheeks heat as embarrassment overtook him. Never mind the erection he was now sporting. He'd manage without. But he was humiliated, actually having allowed Feliks to have some sort of leverage over him. This stretched beyond their rivalry as nations. This went deeper on a personal, near human level and he would not let this stay. No, nobody made a fool of Russia and got away with it.

Muttering darkly, he pulled himself together, splashed some cold water on his face and pushed his way out of the bathroom. There were only three weeks until the next World Conference. He could wait until then.

* * *

**Translations**:

Польша – Russian for 'Poland'  
да – Russian for 'Yes'  
Rosja – Polish for 'Russia'

**A/N**: Thank you so much for your patience, everyone! I know this took me a little bit to get out. I'm aiming to get a chapter out each week or so. This one took me a bit longer to finish the end of the chapter I want to give a major thank you to Sabrina who beta'd this chapter and let me talk at her while trying to work out the ending scene. This fic wouldn't be what it is without her. I hope everyone enjoys!

The next chapter is already in the works so I promise to have it up much faster!

As always, please review. Concrit is always appreciated! Thanks!


	3. Chapter 2

**Pairing**: Ivan Braginsky x Feliks Łukasiewicz (Russia x Poland)

**Summary**: They never should have been together. Between the secrecy, the manipulation and the dangerous obsession, they'd never had a worse idea in their lives. They never said it was healthy, but in that moment, it was all they had.

**Warnings**: M rating for later chapters.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia or any related ideas. This is all just for fun and entertainment here.

* * *

In the last three weeks, Ivan gave far more thought to his encounter with Poland than he dared admit. Fantasies, dreams even were constantly running through his head. When he wasn't angry and embarrassed over how the last encounter went, he found himself sincerely wishing for more. He'd had dominion over the Pole before in centuries past but not like this. Never at this basic, physical level that was so very human it was easy to forget the nationhood that stood behind them. In fact, he found himself focusing so intently on what it would be like to have the Pole submit to him, that more often than not his irritation and anger over the way things had ended were severely outweighed by his overwhelming desire.

By the time the world conference came around three weeks later, he was positively fixated. This wasn't a crush, no. There were no feelings of attachment. This was an obsession, plain and simple. He knew damn well he'd have his chance to corner Poland and to tell him - no, show him exactly what was on his mind. He found himself almost looking forward to the preliminary events leading up to the conferences - normally he avoided the pleasantries like the plague. He didn't care to spend time catching up with other nations nor was he particularly interested in that persisting feel of isolation when he entered the room. He was no longer the Imperial power he'd been in centuries past. He wasn't the ever expanding Soviet Union. He was simply the Russian Federation now and while he certainly hadn't softened to the point of actually wanting to befriend any one of the other nations, he had to admit it would have been nice if he weren't treated like a dangerous time bomb every time he entered the room.

He wasn't the only nation to have waged war on others. He wasn't the only nation to have conquered and kept other nations for his own. Long ago nations like Spain, like England and even France had been no better. Even America himself had, had his years of Imperialism. And yet somehow it was he, Russia, that was still treated as a villain. He wasn't about to mourn the lack of friendship. He didn't care for most of the Western Europeans anyway. He told himself he enjoyed that look of fear in the eyes of another. Even America, the hero had that look somewhere in the depths of his gaze. They all had that look - all except for Poland of course. Even in his darkest hours, in the threat of being wiped completely from existence by Russia, by Prussia, Austria and even Germany, Poland hadn't shown fear. He was either too stupid or too proud, but either way for Russia it was a breath of fresh air.

He'd already decided he'd attend the dinner set out for the visiting nation by the host at the beginning of each conference. Normally he avoided it and ate in his room. Tonight, however, he decided to brave the crowd and the stares and made his way down to the banquet hall. This year's meeting was in France's home, in the city of Paris, so of course he had high expectations of the cuisine. Immediately upon entering and seeking out his seat with the other Eastern European nations, he scanned the room for Poland. He hadn't yet taken his seat though punctuality wasn't a strong suit of the blond's. Poland did what he wanted, when he wanted to. Ivan settled next to his elder sister, greeting her warmly. It was for his sisters only, he said, that he held any affection at all, and even they tried his patience.

As Ukraine chattered cheerfully to him, he looked around the room. He knew Poland often spent his time with many of the Western European nations. But as he looked over he saw no sign of the blond. He was hardly listening to his sister as she mentioned this and that about her nation and her boss and so on, making absent, obligatory comments of interest when appropriate. He spent nearly the entire meal like that. It wasn't unusual for a few nations not to be present - he certainly never came to dinner - but he'd imagined the Pole would. However, as the first course gave way to the second, there was no sign of him anywhere. It was only then, he noticed with sudden jealousy, that Lithuania was also nowhere to be seen.

Now he knew they had a history. They'd been married for decades with the power of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth backing them. How deep the marriage ran he didn't know. He knew he'd been the one to end that union though for all he knew it had ended in name only and they still held a deep bond. It startled him just how much that notion made jealousy burn within him. Poland had turned on Lithuania, invading back in the 20's and yet they remained friends – well, at least their relations were improving. On a personal level they seemed at ease. For all Russia and Lithuania had had their differences, Toris, like all the Baltics and any others who'd been under his control still feared and resented him.

The mere idea of the pair of them spending the evening together soured his appetite. Without so much as a word to his sister, he rose from his chair and moved for the doors of the hall. There was no break in the chatter around the tables though he didn't miss the wary gazes upon him. He found himself longing for that defiant, green stare all the more as he strode from the hall and headed back for his room. With long, quick strides he made his way towards the lobby and elevator, his speedy pace eating up the distance until he was stopped dead by a very familiar laugh.

Exiting the elevators was Poland and, as Russia had predicted, Lithuania was at his side. The pair stopped short when they saw him just ahead. A look of mild panic crossed over the Lithuanian's face as he stood just a pace behind Poland. That was easy enough to ignore in the face of the smug look on Poland's face.

"_Rosja_," He said, his tone superior. "Leaving dinner already?" He asked pleasantly. He was quite aware how late they were, and in all honesty the reason for their lateness wasn't at all what he was sure the Russian was assuming from the fixated gaze on their joined hands.

"How do you know I am leaving early and you are not so late that you've missed all the main courses." Russia said evenly. "It's rude to be so late, you know." His belittling tone wasn't lost on Lithuania, who seemed anxious to get out of there. He was doing a masterful job at hiding his unease but he still seemed determined to coax Poland into the banquet hall.

"I'm sure nobody has missed us." Feliks said, waving his hand as if to push off the concern. "Well, nobody aside from _you_ that is." He said and it was a clear taunt. Lithuania froze behind him.

"Ah ... Feliks, maybe we should go. They're probably serving the main course now." He said uneasily. "Have ... have a pleasant night ..._Rus-_" He began and stopped when Feliks squeezed his hand. That's right, he wasn't the Russian's servant anymore. He owed him no titles and there was nothing wrong with saying his name. "Have a good night, _Rusija_."

With Toris having given his goodbye, Feliks just nodded his head. He gave a sweet smile to Ivan and tugged Toris after him, heading towards the banquet hall. Oh, he was far too aware of Ivan's stare on them as they left, and he relished every moment of it. For all that Toris seemed mildly panicked about Feliks so flippantly teasing the powerful, big nation, the Pole didn't seem to give his concern much mind. As far as he saw it, he had something on Russia - not that he'd let anyone, least of all Lithuania know about it.

As the pair headed into the hall, still holding hands, Ivan all but seethed with jealousy along with that returning anger. How dare Poland make a fool of him twice now? Growling to himself he made his way into the elevator and pressed the button for his room. The teasing should have killed his desire, he told himself. He shouldn't have wanted him all the more, but there the desire was, hot and burning and growing ever more.

* * *

**Translations**:

Rosja – Polish for 'Russia'  
Rusija – Lithuanian for 'Russia'

**A/N**: I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. I'm sorry I wasn't able to get it up as quickly as I'd hoped. Unfortunately, my beta was unable to continue with me. I edited this one myself so I do apologize if there are any mistakes or if anything is unclear.

I know this chapter is short, but I do promise it's leading up to a much better, longer chapter. I'm about halfway done with writing it now. I hope to have a new beta soon so that I can post it for you all! Thank you so much for your patience, your reviews and all of your support. It means so much to me, truly.

As always, please review. Concrit is always appreciated! Thanks!


	4. Chapter 3

**Pairing**: Ivan Braginsky x Feliks Łukasiewicz (Russia x Poland)

**Summary**: They never should have been together. Between the secrecy, the manipulation and the dangerous obsession, they'd never had a worse idea in their lives. They never said it was healthy, but in that moment, it was all they had.

**Warnings**: M rating for later chapters.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia or any related ideas. This is all just for fun and entertainment here.

* * *

Last night's encounter had proven one thing to Feliks: Russia had not forgotten their brief meeting in Warsaw. Then again it had been a hard meeting to forget. He knew he'd left the larger nation unsatisfied and wanting, and while that hadn't been Feliks' goal it certainly had been a bonus for him. He hadn't stopped thinking about that night since it happened. The tension between them had been undeniable and he found himself wondering what would have happened had his boss not called. Would he have returned the favor for Russia? Would he have allowed things to progress further? He was no virgin and he'd long since grown past the narrow minded human views of religion and homosexuality. He knew very well what Catholicism had to say on the matter but when one lived for centuries with no end in sight, it was very hard to subscribe to human ways of thinking when it came to these matters.

The thought of what it could have been like stayed with him over the next three weeks. What sort of lover was Russia like anyway? He couldn't imagine the large nation being gentle or slow or careful - which was just as well. Save for his Liet, Feliks had little patience for that manner of doing things. Over and over again he ran the evening through his head, giving it a different ending each time. It wasn't that he cared for Ivan. It wasn't even that he liked him. He'd always hated the other nation. With what had transpired between them in centuries past, how could he not? But the physical interest was there whether he liked it or not.

Meeting him last night had been nothing short of gratifying to Feliks. His tension was evident and the way he stared at Feliks with Toris made his jealousy plainly obvious. He didn't consider that it might have been Lithuania he wanted - no, Feliks knew very well what the Russian desired. He felt vindicated, once more as if he'd won something important. He was proud of himself. From one brief interlude he'd managed to stay on Russia's mind for three weeks. He didn't stop to consider the sheer oddity of the situation. All he knew was that the more he lingered on the jealousy and wanting in those amethyst eyes, the more he wanted to play into that and lead them into what they both undoubtedly wanted.

It was with that plan in mind that led him to where he was now, walking with Toris down to the meeting hall. He didn't miss the sideways glances that his longtime friend was giving him. Over and over those eyes would dart sideways, sweep over him and then look ahead as if he hadn't been staring at him. At last, as they made their way into the elevator, Feliks just had to say something. "Alright, out with it."

"What?" Toris asked with a wince, trying to keep himself looking as innocent as possible.

"What's wrong with my outfit?" Feliks asked incredulously. "Did I mess up my hair?"

Toris took a moment to stare at him in disbelief. "No... not your hair."

"Do I have something on me?" Feliks looked down, brushing his clothing off, checking for invisible stains.

"No ..." Toris deadpanned. "Feliks ... you're, you're wearing a skirt," he said. It was something he'd never understood about the Pole though he'd long learned to accept it. He'd seen him wear women's clothing in casual situations many times now. But at work? At a meeting? He wasn't so sure that was okay.

"And you're wearing that sweater I told you not to wear," Feliks quipped, adjusting the dark green pencil skirt that was perhaps just a bit too short to be decent. "I can wear a skirt if I want. Scotland does it."

"That's a kilt, it doesn't count and you know it," Toris rolled his eyes. "But, Feliks, really .. the heels?" He asked. "And the blouse?" The heels put them at the same height - he wasn't entirely sure he wasn't presently shorter than the Pole really - and that blouse was just ... well it was fitted and as far as he was concerned the whole thing was inappropriate. Feliks had his reasons, of course, but he wasn't sharing them and so Lithuania was left to assume the Pole was, once again, just trying to make a shocking impression.

Feliks' reply to Toris' concern was a playful pat on the cheek before leading them into the conference hall. If anyone appeared bothered by Feliks' choice in clothing, he didn't seem to notice. In fact, he ignored any and all gazes and comments directed towards him (he was admittedly a little amused at the dumbstruck look on Germany's face) save for one. The moment he entered the room with Toris, he felt those amethyst eyes upon him. Russia's stare was so intense Feliks was positive he could feel it on his very skin, making him feel far more exposed than a short skirt ever could. It was all he could do not to look right back into that hungry stare. He couldn't show just how much he returned the desire - not yet. He was unwilling to let Russia have any sort of upper hand in this game he was playing.

He took his seat beside Toris, sitting across from Russia and his sisters. He pretended to be interested as the Lithuanian lamented the rejection of his affections by Belarus yet again. Normally he'd have rolled his eyes and told him to move on, but for the time being he listened, crossing one leg over the other, chin on his hand, looking just about as enthralled as he could be. Toris was wrapped up enough in what he was saying that he didn't notice his friend's feigned interest. He'd long since come to realize that having Poland's full attention was something of an impossibility.

As Feliks half-listened to his friend speaking, he leaned in close, laughing perhaps a bit too enthusiastically when Toris said something that was supposed to be funny. He leaned in, touching his arm, murmuring something that was for his ears only. Honestly it was no more than a comment about his joke - apparently he'd stopped talking about his woes with Belarus - but to the hungry gaze across the table from them, it could have been anything he said. If the behavior bothered Toris, he didn't say anything about it until Germany called them all to order. And only then all he asked was for Feliks to quiet and give him his space so that he could take the notes that the lazy Pole would inevitably ask him for later.

As it were Feliks paid no attention, and took no notes, though this time it wasn't due to boredom or lack of interest. He was far too occupied with the man across from him.

Russia cursed his position across from Feliks. He knew damn well what the other man was up to. It seemed strange to refer to him as such with the way he looked in that outfit. He could have passed for a woman as easily as any of the female nations there, and with the way those legs looked in that skirt he just might have passed off better than many of them. He gritted his teeth, trying not to stare at the blond as he shifted in his seat, recrossing his legs. Try as he might there wasn't much chance of catching a view under that skirt - not that he would admit to looking in such a way. He found himself lost to the speech at the front of the room - not that he ever paid America much mind - as Feliks toyed with his pen, teeth closing around the cap. For all that Feliks simply looked bored and lost in the meeting, Ivan knew damn well that was _not_ the case here. Suddenly the meeting space seemed far too warm, the speeches far too long. He needed to get out of there and get Poland alone _now_.

It seemed luck was with Ivan. Only ten minutes more of the inflicted torture and a fight broke out - quite predictably - between Britain and France. Of course that entailed others getting involved; Greece was quick to take the opportunity to catch a nap, Germany was off, yelling for order, America was proclaiming that _he_ should have been given charge of the meeting ... It was all so very _normal_. It seemed to be the routine on the first day of meetings. It was at the suggestion of Canada - who the others nearly ignored - that the entire meeting take a half hour break to grab food or coffee ... just to give everyone a chance to leave the hot, crowded room. Russia swore he owed Canada some kind of favor for that, as he stood.

It wasn't surprising that as soon as he stepped out from his seat, Feliks turned away, now engaging Estonia in conversation. He ignored Russia as the large nation made his way over to them. While Poland appeared oblivious, his Baltic companions were not. At once, Lithuania stiffened beside him. Latvia stopped trying to enter into Estonia and Poland's conversation and stared at Russia, looking very much like a frightened rabbit. Estonia, long tired of the Russian's intimidation tactics fixed him with a hard stare, masking his habitual unease around their former superior. When the three Baltics went silent, Feliks turned in his seat and looked at Russia looming over them. "Yes?" He asked, moving in his seat in such a way that made his skirt ride up his leg a little. "Can we help you?" He showed absolutely no indication that any attention had been paid to Russia at all.

Ivan had to fight from growling low in his throat at that disrespect. "I need to speak with you, Польша,"he said tersely. He had no energy to put into intimidating the other three, though of course, his terse air may have done the job for him.

"I'm a little busy right now..." Feliks said, gesturing to the others. "Can't it wait?" He asked with a little smile that showed he knew exactly what it was that Russia wanted to _talk_ about. He hated to admit how the other's apparent tension made him shiver with anticipation. He shouldn't be enjoying this game so much. He watched the other's jaw work, was sure he could see his very temper rising.

"нет," Ivan said firmly, shaking his head. "I must speak with you now ... before this break is over." He wasn't sure he could handle another few hours of that teasing.

Feliks gave a great sigh as if he was being terribly put out by the request. "Fine." He shook his head and rolled his eyes at the others as if to say, 'Rude' before turning to Lithuania. "Liet, will you get me a coffee? I'm totally gonna fall asleep when the meeting starts back up."

With the confirmation that Lithuania would follow through, Poland turned to Russia. "Well ... let's go, I guess," he said, and promptly led the way out, positive there were eyes (and probably not just Russia's) following him as he left the meeting hall. His cocky step led the way only until they were out of eyesight and earshot before a large hand grabbed his upper arm, half leading him, half dragging him down the hallway. "_Rosja, puść mnie!" _He hissed, wondering as he had that night in June if he'd pushed too much.

Only moments later his arm was released as Ivan pulled them into a smaller conference room, darkened and shut off - it was clearly not in use today. He shut the door behind him and loomed over the Pole, who to his satisfaction looked uneasy. Before he could so much as demand to be told what was going on though, Ivan stepped up, answering the unspoken question. "Twice now you've made a fool of me," he said, taking a step forward and to his pleasure, Feliks took a step back. "You spent that entire meeting teasing me - don't deny it," he added.

"I won't deny it if you're honest about how much you like it," Feliks shot back, regaining his confidence and standing his ground. The heels he'd worn put them just a little more level though he was still looking up. "Admit it, you enjoyed watching me in there," Feliks said, daring a step closer. "You couldn't keep your eyes off of me."

"How could I?" Ivan countered. "It's not often you see someone begging for attention the way you were," he stepped forward again - they were almost touching. "Whether I want you or not, that does nothing to change the fact that you've gone out of your way to entice me," he hissed lowly.

Feliks faltered before making himself close the distance between them, noses now nearly touching. "It worked, didn't it?" He challenged. Ivan offered no verbal reply. Instead he grabbed the other, placing his hands at that narrow waist and pulled him close. Their lips met - though perhaps clashed was a better term for it - with vigor. At once Feliks' arms were around the other's shoulders, and Ivan was pulling his narrow hips forward against his larger frame. Guilt and shame pooled in both of their stomachs as they gave into their baser instincts and kissed one another with abandon. Neither of them should have been in this position, and more accurately, none of them should have _needed _this the way they both did.

All too soon they parted for breath but neither was about to end this sudden frenzy. Ivan's lips went to Feliks' neck, exposed above the collar of his blouse just as Feliks' hands went from his shoulders to his chest. One hand slid lower still, unashamedly undoing the belt that held Ivan's trousers up. Things were moving fast now - almost too fast - and neither of them were stopping to consider anything but the other body before them. Feliks was sure his heart was going to beat right out of his chest as he succeeded in getting both the belt and the trousers undone. Save for that interlude in the airport restroom, he was suddenly quite aware of how long it had been since he'd last been with someone, but if Ivan wasn't chickening out, Feliks sure wasn't.

Ivan had to fight to contain the sound that left his lips when Feliks' slender fingers tugged his trousers open and wrapped around his arousal. All irritation he'd felt seemed to be put on pause as he focused on the other's hand - surprisingly rough for one who looked so delicate - on him. He swallowed hard, leaning against one of the tables. It seemed Feliks was giving this an earnest try as his hand picked up a decent pace. With his free hand he pulled the Russian in for another bruising kiss and it was clear that a mere hand job was not where the Pole meant to leave this. He made certain Ivan knew this wasn't the completion of it by slipping his hand from his trousers and pulling him in for yet another kiss. "We don't have much time," he hissed.

No sooner had he said that, than there was a knock at the locked board room door. "Russia, dude, you in there?" Came America's questioning voice. "They called for the meeting to start again .. so whatever weird stuff you're doing, come on." Apparently they'd gone back on the thirty minute break limit and sent him to pull anyone who was meandering in the halls back in. Apparently Russia hadn't been as smooth as he thought. Feliks whipped around and glared at the door. How did that American have the worst timing possible?!

"Tell him you'll be out in a minute," he hissed at Ivan, who was quick to comply, trying to swallow back his irritation that he'd be left to go back to the meeting like this.

Ivan's quick reply seemed to have satisfied the nation outside, because they were once again left in silence. "Later," Feliks said, hushed. "My room." He grabbed one of the pens from the white board at the side and took Ivan's big hand, scrawling '410' on it. "Fifteen minutes after the meeting. If you're late, I won't let you in," he said dismissively and pulled away, trying to pull himself together.

Ivan was just a little irritated at the quick dismissal, but with the promise of another meeting after the day's conference had ended, he was pacified. After all, now his fantasizing wasn't in vain, now was it?

* * *

**Translations**:

Польша - Russian for 'Poland'

нет - Russian for 'no'

Rosja, puść mnie - Polish; 'Russia, let me go'

**A/N**: Surprise! Who expected me to update this fast? I bet nobody did. You all had to wait so long for the last two updates. So to make up for the shorter chapter last time ... and this time too I'm posting much faster. Sorry for the tease here, I know I keep doing that to you guys but I do promise this fic is going to live up to its M rating next chapter, believe me.

Thank you so much to my new beta FanFictionFiend. You are such a good friend and a great beta. Without this person my story would be unedited, all over the place with my ideas and probably wouldn't be posted.

I just wanted to post a note about my Polish, Russian (and pretty much any other snippets used here). English is my native language and though I'm working on Polish I'm still pretty poor at it. I do my best and frankly, I don't intend on using anything more than words here and there in any language for worry of grammatical blunders. However, if I'm wrong, corrections would absolutely be appreciated! However, if you're going to be rude about it, I'd rather not have the help.

As always, please review. Concrit is always appreciated! Thanks!


	5. Chapter 4

**Pairing**: Ivan Braginsky x Feliks Łukasiewicz (Russia x Poland)  
**Summary**: They never should have been together. Between the secrecy, the manipulation and the dangerous obsession, they'd never had a worse idea in their lives. They never said it was healthy, but in that moment, it was all they had.  
**Warnings**: This chapter is definitely earning the M rating. Rated for sexual content.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia or any related ideas. This is all just for fun and entertainment here.

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The meeting that followed his little rendezvous with Ivan was the longest Feliks had ever experienced. He'd had to deal first with worried glances from Toris and the curiosity of Estonia and Latvia when he returned. He refused to tell them what had gone down of course, though they seemed to think it wasn't anything worth mentioning. After all, if the Russian had pissed Feliks off, they'd all know about it by now. As if the Baltics' questioning hadn't been enough, the meeting moved more slowly than ever. Between meandering speeches that went nowhere and spats popping up around the room, the meeting seemed to take twice as long, and of course Feliks paid attention to none of it. He was too occupied with thinking about what would happen when he got upstairs. In the heat of the moment it had seemed like the best plan possible but now that he was taking a step back and had time to think, he was rethinking his invite.

Was he really going to have sex? With Russia? He wasn't a prude about sex, not at all. He had his own list of people he'd been with and with hundreds of years behind him he didn't see why he shouldn't have. But still ... even with the people he'd slept with, none of them had ever been an enemy nor someone he hated on a personal level as he did Ivan. It seemed wrong and yet in that wrongness it was all the more enticing. The more he thought about it, the more he alternately wanted and did not want this. The hungry, amethyst gaze resting on him from across the table did him no favors. He could feel Ivan undressing him with his eyes and to say the feeling didn't send a little shiver of anticipation through him would have been an outright lie. He tried not to focus on the way his heart beat faster at the stare, nor the way he felt anticipation coiling in the pit of his stomach but by the end of the meeting he had himself so worked up that he hardly stayed more than a moment to tell his friends he was going to his room for a nap before making a beeline for the lobby.

Once or twice Feliks was sure he heard his name from a passerby, asking for his time and his attention. He had neither to give. The trip to his room, like everything else that afternoon seemed to take forever. He was antsy as the elevator crawled up to his floor. For all that he was only three floors up, the trip sure seemed to take a long while. At last, he arrived at his floor - he couldn't have been more grateful that he hadn't had to ride with anyone else on the way up. With quick, short strides the Pole made his way into his room, immediately moving to scrutinize his appearance in the bathroom mirror, trying to debate on whether or not he'd like to change or freshen up or just ... well did it matter? Clothes would be coming off soon enough anyway.

Having decided that he wasn't going to bother with changing anything, he wandered back into the bedroom and sat on the bed, looking around the space. He'd only been there a day but he'd already made a bit of a mess of things - there were clothes on the floor and his suitcase was still not fully unpacked. The bed was unmade but at this point he wasn't too sure it mattered all that much. Feliks loathed cleaning and if he was going to clean for anyone it sure as hell wasn't going to be Ivan Braginsky. With that thought in mind he got up and helped himself to one of the little bottles of vodka in the mini refrigerator. He glanced down idly. It was Dragon Bleu - not his beloved Belvedere but French vodka or not, it was the liquid courage he was sure he needed. He finished the little bottle easily and chased it with another, nearly dropping the second bottle at the knock on his door.

_Kurwa_, he thought to himself. I knew I should have made him wait longer. Of course Ivan would be right on time. With the prospect of finally getting what he wanted right before him, there was no way he'd be late. Conversely, Feliks took his time coming to the door. He let Ivan knock once and then twice before he walked over, his strides slow. He opened the door, glancing at the clock on his cell phone to show Ivan he'd been watching the time. "Fifteen minutes on the dot," he said with a little smirk. "I totally have you going here, don't I?" He asked.

Ivan stood in the doorway, doing his best to look impassive and not at all eager in spite of the need he'd felt since they'd parted from that empty meeting room. However, as soon as Feliks answered that door with that smug little look on his face and that sassy little tone in his voice, he scowled, using his bulk to step in past the Pole with little effort. "You said fifteen minutes. I came in that time. Not all of us are as flippant with their time as you are, Польша," he replied coolly.

The remark was met with a snort and a roll of green eyes as Feliks stepped aside and shut the door after him. "Oh, shut up," he said, fueled by the vodka beginning to work in his system. He didn't want to wait nor worry about this awkward dance in the doorway of his hotel room. There was no need for pleasantries or small talk. There were no pretenses here. Ivan was here for sex, plain and simple. Why were they dancing around it? Reaching up, he fisted one hand into the scarf Ivan always seemed to wear and pulled him down, kissing him firmly. It wasn't often he wore heels but at the moment he was grateful for the added three inches - Ivan already towered over him, so closing the gap between them was helpful.

Ivan responded instantly. At once his arm wound around the smaller body against his own. He held Feliks close before he grew tired of kissing there in the doorway. Without much ceremony he picked up the smaller male, unsurprised when the other's legs wrapped around his middle as much as that skirt allowed. He hated to admit just how much the sight of Feliks dressed as he was aroused him, but apparently the Pole knew it well anyway, given his choice in clothing today. It seemed almost a pity to undress him. Once again Feliks took the lead in undressing, reaching up to push Ivan's jacket off of his shoulders, immediately going for the buttons on his shirt when the article of clothing hit the floor.

Within moments Ivan was stripped save for the scarf around his neck with his trousers hanging open around his hips. Feliks lay beneath him, blouse undone and skirt pushed up to reveal - not surprisingly - a pair of black panties. "Women's underwear?" Ivan questioned skeptically.

Feliks just rolled his eyes, wriggling out of the skirt and kicking his heels off. "Do you expect me to like, wear boxers under a pencil skirt?" He asked as if his solution had been the most obvious thing in the world. "You're taking too long," he complained tugging at the scarf.

At once Ivan's hand flew up to stop him. "нет." He shook his head, tugging the small hand away from his scarf.

"Why?" Feliks asked, bewildered. "We're about to have sex and you're concerned about baring your neck?" He looked positively incredulous. He reached up to tug again. This time he moved a little quicker than Ivan anticipated and the material shifted, baring some of the Russian's pale neck. He winced, waiting for some kind of reaction. Most of his neck was scarred - and badly - all the way around. In his opinion it was unsightly and hideous. Much to his surprise, Feliks didn't so much as bat an eyelash as he pulled the scarf away. "That?" He asked finally, noting Ivan's near embarrassed shrug.

"We all have them," Feliks said, mainly to cut the silence that had fallen between them. Slowly he shrugged off his blouse, revealing a scar of his own. It was smaller than Ivan's of course, set right over his heart. It was unsightly, big on his chest, obvious enough that no makeup would fully cover it, but Feliks didn't attempt to hide it at all. Granted he said nothing about it either, but the scarred flesh didn't appear to cause him much grief. "Now that we're done with that, are you going to fuck me or not?"

He spoke so plainly that Ivan had to stare. He hadn't expected Poland to be some sort of pliant, submissive, blushing thing but he hadn't much expected such fire, such demanding in him either. It was refreshing. He didn't remember the last time he'd been touched like this in earnest and not felt some kind of reluctance or fear from the other person. Poland touched him without much worry, touching him because he wanted to, not for any other reason. It was relief enough that it was easy to forget how much he hated the annoyance before him.

At last they were both completely stripped. Undressing one another, kissing, touching, all of that had been testing the waters so to speak. But now they were both completely bare and taking in the sight of one another. There was nothing holding them back, no clothing, no people, no meeting ... There was a brief moment of hesitation where amethyst met emerald and they looked at one another not with boiling hatred but with pure, unadulterated need. And then, as if a start bell had rung for them, they both moved, clashing as they kissed one another, hungry and desperate and needy. Ivan pressed Feliks down into the bed as he shifted between his spread legs. He grabbed for his discarded pants and Feliks had the decency not to laugh at the fact that he'd apparently come prepared. It wasn't as if he had anything in his room that would have been helpful - something he only just now remembered - so when Ivan produced lubricant that he'd had the foresight to get, Feliks wasn't going to laugh. Much.

Of course his barely suppressed snickers ended the moment he felt the other's fingers inside of him. Ivan's movements were slow, and that irritated the Pole to no end, though of course as far as Ivan saw, it was well deserved. With each push of his fingers inwards he felt the body beneath his own shudder, saw those narrow hips lifting, trying to get more, more, more. And he wasn't going to give it to him, not yet. For the last three weeks he'd been wanting, and now it was Feliks' turn to wait.

"_Rosja, nie_." Feliks shook his head from side to side. He was in no mood to wait and although those fingers were bringing him absolute pleasure, he wanted more. He was greedy and he wanted this to go to its completion.

"Ask me nicely," came Ivan's even reply as he continued the assault with his fingers. Feliks' reply was to glare at him, following that up with a high pitched yelp as Ivan pushed his fingers in deeply one more time.

Feliks whined before giving in. It was just a word and he was sure the upper hand was still his in the dynamic of this dysfunctional 'relationship'. "_Proszę_," he said under his breath. Ivan was smart enough to know that if he had pushed further, things would not have gone his way.  
"Good," he commented and withdrew his fingers. By now the alcohol had well set in for Feliks and he was feeling pleasantly buzzed - not drunk - so that he was no longer nervous about what was to transpire between them. He was relaxed enough to let Ivan take the lead, watching the larger man as he prepared them both. It was a definite difference from Ivan's fingers to his erection - no small wonder there - but it wasn't something Feliks was about to whine about, nor give Ivan the benefit of seeing any sort of discomfort as his body adjusted to admit the new intrusion. He gritted his teeth and both of his hands grabbed at Ivan's upper arms, nails biting into the tender flesh of his biceps.

If the sudden pain in his arms bothered him, Ivan didn't show it as he pushed himself right into the willing body beneath his own, forcing himself to allow the other time to adjust. He wasn't precisely a gentle lover but he had enough sense to know that if he made Poland angry enough he'd be finishing this alone in his room. A slight nod of the head and a groaned "hurry, already" was all he needed to encourage him on. At once he began to move in earnest, setting for them both a quick pace.

This was beyond anything Poland had experienced before. He'd had sex, but never with someone that he'd previously spent so much time hating before, never with someone he'd lusted after perhaps quite as vigorously as he did Ivan. The tension that had been mounting between them for weeks was finally being relieved and it couldn't have been more of a godsend. He moved his body into every thrust, rational thoughts about what and who he was doing fading from his consciousness. Even as he lent himself over to the moment, he was very much aware of the larger body above his own, taking him, pressing him into the mattress and he felt so utterly dominated. He wasn't sure he liked that.

With no little effort he placed a hand on his chest and panted out, "stop!" Ivan was so surprised by the sudden request that he stopped completely, staring at him. Feliks took advantage of the moment to push Russia off of him. "What are -" Ivan began indignantly when suddenly a pair of hands on his chest had him on his back and Feliks was now on top again, straddling his hips.

"Change of pace," Feliks explained even as he shifted on top of Ivan, moving to impale himself on the other's length again. He threw back his head as he sank down, exposing his throat just long enough for Ivan to sit up and bite at the exposed flesh. There was no way Ivan would take this completely lying down, and there wasn't any way Feliks was going to allow himself to be further dominated ... so this was a sort of compromise - Ivan sitting with Feliks in his lap. It worked well enough - Feliks wasn't complaining as he continued to work himself up and down, his movements aided by the large hands on his hips, guiding his movements almost roughly.

Even though they had begun to cooperate, neither was gentle with the other. Ivan attacked Feliks' neck with bite marks and bruises, littering the pale flesh with his mark. Feliks returned the favor, dragging his nails down from Ivan's shoulders to his elbows leaving long, red scratches in their wake. Each seemed determined to prove a point though what that point was, neither was certain. Their movements became frenzied as the sounds of their labored breathing and slick movements filled the room. They were deaf and blind to anything but the other body before them and all too soon both of their bodies were mounting higher and higher in pleasure, all but racing to their climaxes.

What seemed like hours (and a few rounds) later, panting, they slowed the movements of their bodies, sweat covered limbs sliding against one another until Feliks had the good sense to pull off of him and they collapsed together. Each man was silent, lost within his thoughts, bodies fighting to get back to a normal state. It was well into the night now, and as big of an appetite as they both could have at times, doing anything but falling into a well deserved sleep seemed to be the only thing they both wanted.

This had been, as Feliks saw it, something that absolutely should not have happened. And yet the experience had been so very fulfilling and satisfying and simply some of the best sex he'd had in a long time. He saw the other almost in a different light - mind you he still loathed the other nation entirely. Russia was and always would be a hated enemy. But on a more personal level, as people this had been quite an excellent connection. But what could that possibly mean for them? For him alone? He sighed softly, looking over to see Russia half dozing beside him. He pushed the other's big shoulder. "You're not gonna like, spend the night are you?" He asked.

Ivan opened weary eyes and yawned. "You do not take up much room in this bed," he remarked, apparently concerned with the effort it would take to leave the room and not with post-sex affection. That made Feliks relax a little.

"Fine. But you're buying me breakfast later," he huffed, turning his back to the Russian and securing the covers around himself against the returning chill of the room. His answer was a slight snore. He thought for a moment that perhaps, at least for this night, that perhaps he didn't hate Ivan quite so much.

* * *

**Translations**:  
Польша - Russian for 'Poland'  
нет - Russian for 'no'  
Rosja, nie - Polish for 'Russia, no'  
Proszę - Polish for 'please'

**A/N:**  
Wow, well this took so much longer than I expected it to. Life's gotten a little hectic for me so thank you so much for your patience. I can't promise the next chapter will be out as quickly - I'm having just a bit of writer's block. Have no fear, because I do have most of the story mapped out, but sometimes in the writing I get a little lost. So I am thanking you all for your patience in advance. And in case you haven't read it, my German Brothers story 'Mein Bruder' is up and is also expecting an update this week.

I may or may not be adding a third story to my update list.

Once again, thank you so much to the amazing FanFictionFiend for the editing and pre-reading and letting me talk ideas at you. You're wonderful. And I especially want to thank all of you who have sent reviews. They're just about the nicest things I've ever read and they really encourage me to keep going. I hope I can keep making you guys happy with my updates!

As always, please review. Concrit is always appreciated! Thanks!


	6. Chapter 5

**Pairing**: Ivan Braginsky x Feliks Łukasiewicz (Russia x Poland)  
**Summary**: They never should have been together. Between the secrecy, the manipulation and the dangerous obsession, they'd never had a worse idea in their lives. They never said it was healthy, but in that moment, it was all they had.  
**Warnings**: Rated for sexual content.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia or any related ideas. This is all just for fun and entertainment here.

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The next morning dawned far too early for Feliks. He made a little noise of protest at the sunlight filtering in through a gap in the heavy curtains of his room. Why did there always have to be that obnoxious sliver of light? He whined a little and moved to sit up, very much aware of the soreness in his rear end. Ah yes, he'd had sex last night with - Wait. He jolted awake, sitting up. The bed was empty. He was alone. Rubbing his face, the blond peered around the room before finally spotting Ivan sitting in the provided arm chair.

"You're still here." The Pole remarked.

"You told me you wanted me to buy you breakfast." Ivan spoke without missing a beat, not looking up from the cellphone he was toying with.

"Oh ..." Feliks said mostly to himself. Well, he couldn't really argue with that logic. He had said just that to him before falling asleep. "Well good." He recovered. "I'm totally starving." He nodded his head and slipped out of bed. He was still naked, of course, though he chose not to feel any embarrassment about it. Conversely, Ivan had put his slacks back on and his unbuttoned shirt hung over his large frame. Feliks tried not to notice the teasing view of the other man's broad chest. He started for the bathroom, ignoring the slight limp to his step.

Ivan didn't miss it. He looked up, not bothering to hide the slight smirk on his lips. "Sore, Польша?" He asked casually.

"Shut up." Feliks grumbled. "Order me something from room service." He pointed to the phone. "I don't care what." He added before slipping into the bathroom. He needed a shower desperately, and a chance to be alone to process everything. How had he honestly let last night happen? He couldn't blame alcohol - he'd made the decision before drinking. How had he let Ivan - his most hated enemy - spend the night? How was he still here in the morning? He had to be losing it or .. or something. Grumbling to himself about foolish giving in to instincts, he turned on the shower and slipped in as soon as the water was warm enough.

Outside the bathroom, Ivan surprisingly did as he'd been asked and ordered for them both something to eat. He set his phone aside and glanced over to the bed. Poland was and always would be a giant pain in his ass (though as it were, he was now the pain in Poland's ass, he thought with much amusement). He hated Poland and he knew all too well that the feeling was mutual. And yet somehow they'd ended up in bed together. There wasn't any denying how much Ivan had enjoyed himself. The sex was good, yes, but there was something satisfying about being with someone who was totally unafraid of him.

It wasn't often the big Nation took a lover that didn't fear him in some way. Most, though they claimed not to, still held their guard around him. Most were cautious. Not Poland. Poland would fight back if threatened. Poland wasn't afraid of him at all. He did what he wanted and said as he pleased around Russia and for a change it was quite refreshing. It was almost addicting, this uncensored interaction. He wanted more of that unadulterated passion. There had been nothing fake last night. Poland did not lie still for him out of fear, nor did he comply in the hopes of gaining favor and avoiding scorn. He was there because he wanted to be.

He found himself reliving their night together. He could instantly recall the sound of Poland's voice raised in pleasure, recall the smell of his hair and the feel of his skin. He remembered his taste and the way he'd looked beneath him. It was all so fresh in his mind and yet it was all too far away. He wanted more and he wanted it now. He slipped out of his clothing and without so much as a knock.

"Польша." He said calmly.

There was the sound of something heavy falling. Presumably Poland had dropped a shampoo bottle in surprise. He tugged the curtain aside and ducked his wet head out. "What do you want? I'm taking a shower here!" He scoffed.

"I can see that." Russia countered and tugged aside the other side of the curtain, stepping inside.

"And what are you do-" Poland turned to him, beginning a demand for an explanation when he was cut off. Ivan's lips crashed against the smaller Nation's, claiming him in a deep kiss that easily betrayed his desire. At first Poland's response was an indignant sound against his mouth before he found himself melting into the kiss. Why did Russia of all people have to be such a good kisser?

At last the kiss was broken so that they both could breathe and they watched one another, amethyst resting on emerald, neither willing to break the gaze first. "So what was that for?" Feliks finally said.

It was Ivan's turn to be incredulous. "Is it not obvious?" He asked.

"You want me again?" Feliks answered, half teasing in his tone.

"You cannot lie to me and tell me that you do not feel the same." Ivan protested. Had the enjoyment of their night been one sided? He hadn't thought so. Poland sure seemed to have enjoyed himself.

That comment stopped Feliks for a moment. "Well no." He admitted. He'd enjoyed himself last night, yes. There was something fun about playing with fire. He wasn't afraid of Russia, not at all, but the knowledge that the larger Nation could do him harm if he chose lingered in the back of his head. Somewhere deep down he had to admit to himself that it was nice to have someone's attention whole heartedly. Though this was lust driven only, there was no indication Russia was spending his time with him pining over another.

Ivan's response was to move in close again. "I'm sore." Feliks said, holding up a hand to stop him. After seeing the scowl cross Ivan's face he relented. "But you can still touch me," He breathed, his tone lower, huskier. The Russian didn't have to be told twice. He moved forward at once and pulled Feliks in for another kiss. He wrapped one big hand around the Pole's length, stroking him quickly beneath the warm spray of the shower. Much to his surprise, Feliks' hand moved in reciprocation, matching the pace of his own hand.

Together their moans filled the steamy bathroom over the sound of the water hitting the tiles and curtain of the shower. There was something about this moment that was more intimate than their evening together last night. For all that they'd 'gone further' in the physical sense so to speak, this seemed deeper, more connected as they'd both acknowledged their enjoyment of one another. Feliks didn't take the time to dwell on the intimacy of the moment as he gave his attention over to the feel of Ivan's rough, calloused palm running over his erection. He did his best to keep up pace with Ivan, his own hand moving more and more quickly.

Panting, Ivan leaned his head down and caught Feliks' mouth in a hungry, open mouthed kiss. He bucked into the other's smaller hand, surprised at how rough Feliks' hands were, for all that he kept them manicured and feminine looking. He was full of surprises, the Pole was. He moaned into their kiss, giving himself completely over to the pleasure rising between them. Unlike Feliks, Ivan didn't give the weight of the morning's activities much thought. This felt good. He enjoyed it. What did it matter that it was with someone he supposedly hated more than he hated most others?

It was Ivan who finished first, uttering a low moan of the other's name though Feliks was not far behind. They both pulled apart for a moment, panting, each lost in his own pleasure. Feliks broke the silence first. "You're hogging the water." He complained as if to break the spell that had them both so enthralled with one another. Ivan opened his mouth to reply when a loud knocking on the bathroom door cut him off.

"Feliks?" Lithuania's voice carried over the pounding of the water against the shower door and the tiles. "Feliks are you in there?"

Feliks' eyes widened and he clamped a hand over Ivan's mouth. "Liet! How did you get in here?" He called nervously.

"You gave me your spare card, remember? You didn't want to oversleep before the meeting?" Toris' voice sounded almost confused.

Feliks cursed under his breath. "Oh ... Oh right ..." He said in return. "Ah, well, I'm awake! Thank you!"

"Are you going to be ready soon? Should I wait for you?" Toris asked cautiously.

"No!" Feliks cried almost too quickly. "I ... I mean, no, that's cool, Liet." He said carefully. "I wanna like, do my hair and junk. I'll see you down there." He said as coolly as he could.

"I ... well alright." Toris said through the door. "Are you sure everything is okay?"

"Totally!" Feliks said, and batted away Ivan's hand as the larger man tried to pry Feliks' hand off of him. He looked far too amused for Feliks' taste. "I'll see you down there. Bye!" He said, his voice carrying a tone that implied he shouldn't be questioned.

"See you ..." The Lithuanian turned away from the door and started down the hall. How strange, he thought to himself. Since that meeting Russia had pulled Poland into yesterday, things had been so strained with his friend. He had to wonder why ...

Back in the bathroom, Feliks gave a slap to Ivan's chest. "You could have made a noise and given us away!" He scolded.

"Would that have been so bad?" Ivan asked, lifting an eyebrow

"Do you want everyone in our business?"

"Well ... no. But I do not care what-"

Feliks cut him off. "I don't want to deal with it. You're not exactly Mister Popular, okay? I don't want to hear the shit I'd get from ..." He trailed off, seeing Ivan looked almost hurt. "No ... I didn't mean ..." He realized he was almost considerate of Russia's feelings. He sighed. "Look, I didn't mean that. I just mean ... If this is going to happen again I'd rather just enjoy it and not deal with like ... drama. You know?" He amended.

Ivan looked suddenly pleased. "This will happen again?" He asked.

"I guess." Feliks shrugged. "I mean it was fun and all. Nobody has to know." He didn't want to admit he'd enjoyed it as much as he had. "Good way to blow off steam." He added to sound further detached.

Ivan seemed too pleased to notice. "Well good. Then you can come to my room tonight then, yes?" He asked.

"No. My room again. Eight o'clock." He said. "Now let me wash up so we can eat and go, okay?" Ivan didn't protest. Feliks shook his head a little, watching the other Nation climb out of the shower. What was he getting himself into?

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**A/N: **Hello, everyone! I'm so sorry this update took as long as it did. My inspiration for this pair sort of took a vacation but fortunately it returned long enough for me to get this chapter out. I am sorry this one was short, but it's sort of a bridge to the rest of the story. I hope you all enjoyed! I will do my best to get another update out soon but I'm not sure that'll happen. I'm moving next month and going back to school at the same time so I'll be a busy bee.  
I do intend to finish 'Mein Bruder' very soon, though, and I have a PruAus AU on the horizon. Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you'll keep sticking with me!  
As always, please review. Concrit is always appreciated! Thanks!


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